


Sometimes all it takes is a bomb and some books...

by Doodles_of_the_last_page



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Caring Aziraphale (Good Omens), Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Summaries, I'm Bad At Tagging, Idiots in Love, M/M, Post-Scene: Church in London 1941 (Good Omens), Reference to Robbie Ross, References to Oscar Wilde, World War II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27634040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doodles_of_the_last_page/pseuds/Doodles_of_the_last_page
Summary: THE BOOKS! HE´D SAVED THE BOOKS! The line hammered in Aziraphale´s head like a mantra. He stood there, on the grounds of the ruined church, in the middle of fucking Blitz, glued like a statue, repeating that over and over.[Just the missing scene after the Blitz... nothing very new, just one shot from a crazy shipper including fluff, conversations, a little smutty angel (coz why not!) and part of the most awesome love story!]
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 31





	Sometimes all it takes is a bomb and some books...

**Author's Note:**

> Here it goes... for better or for worse; a purely self-indulgent fic.
> 
> For the Crowley to my Aziraphale (or vice-versa, depending on the day). Hopefully they never find it!!!!
> 
> P.s. It was written a looooonnnng time ago- posting now, courtesy of the barely new-found courage. not beta'd by anyone other than me. So apologies for any and all mistakes. And constructive criticism is welcomed with open heart!
> 
> P.p.s- The beautiful characters belong to Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett. I'm just a tiny, puny, writer dabbling in the unknown.  
> If some of the views remotely resemble any of the fics, what can I say? "Wise people think alike."😂
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!!☺️

THE BOOKS! HE´D SAVED THE BOOKS! The line hammered in Aziraphale´s head like a mantra. He stood there, on the grounds of the ruined church, in the middle of fucking Blitz, glued like a statue, repeating that over and over.

  
“Angel? You coming?”, a shout. He stared blankly, not registering.

  
“ANGEL!!!”, more irritated shout. He blinked. Eyes focusing on the demon clad in sleek, form-fitting black suit with a fedora, leaning on the Bentley. His mouth opened but no sound came out. he followed the voice as if hypnotized. Crowley opened the door to the passenger side and he sat down mechanically in the seat, clutching the satchel to his heart. The door closed with a slight thud.

  
Crowley settled on the driver´s side and glanced at the stupored angel, thinking better to leave him alone for a while. The car started to roll smoothly on the battered streets and destroyed buildings of London. As soon as the car started, the red-haired entity felt a gaze bored on him but kept his eyes on the road. Aziraphale stared at his companion in open wonder. His lips parted and closed a few times as if to say something.

  
_Thank him at least! You idiot! What are you doing? Oh, dear! He looks so different yet the same! The handsome cut of his jaw, those cheekbones, those lips… if only I could see those eyes… he looks so fetching in the fedora! Don´t stare at him! He knows you´re ogling, you pervert! He saved your sorry little ass! It’s been almost fifty years? He came after almost half a century. Why? Where´s he been? What´s he been up to? How I missed him! God, I missed him! I LOVE HIM…I LOVE HIM…I LOVE HIM…I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM…_ Nothing seemed right to say at the moment. Words jumbled up; his brain seemed to freeze.

  
“Angel…”  
“Aziraphale…”

  
He was still staring when a slender, long hand waved right at his face. “We´ve been here for almost five minutes!”

  
“Huhh?”, he was jolted to reality.

  
“Your bookshop. We´re here.”

  
“Oh!”, Aziraphale still made no move to get out of the car.

  
Crowley leaned to his side and clicked the door open. “Did you hit your head in the rumble?”, he half-joked.

  
“What? No. No. I-I must…”, the angel whispered and pointed to the shop.

  
“Of Course. Mind how you go! Stay out of trouble, angel!”, Crowley sounded dejected? Disappointed? A little bit hurt?

  
“Would you like to come in for a nightcap?”, he blurted out in one breath.

  
“Uh… (some inarticulate noise which sounded very much like rejection) …”

  
“Please? I would like that.”, the angel said very softly. I need that was left unsaid.

  
“Fine. One drink.”, as if Crowley could ever refuse those hopeful puppy eyes. They were going to be the death of him.

  
Aziraphale got out of the car and strode forward. Crowley got out and placed a step on the pavement to trail behind the angel repressing a wince. He kept the bag on the ground to take out the keys to open the door and stepped inside. The door closed after Crowley, who stood at the entrance as the angel took of his coat and hat to place it on the stand.

  
“Oh, the books! I forgot the book again! Outside.”, he rushed to the door and collided with the bag as Crowley held it out for him.

  
“Don´t get your Victorian knickers in a twist! I´ve got them!”, the demon chuckled.  
Aziraphale snapped the bag to his desk in the office and clung to the demon like a kraken to the ship, with all limbs trying to get hold of him at once, sending both of them reeling into the door. Crowley took a step back in shock more than surprise and balanced his hand against the handle of the closed door.

  
“Hey-hey! It´s alright. Angel. What´s the matter?” Aziraphale still didn´t let him go and now the demon started to worry for real.  
He gained his composure and settles his hands beneath the angel to carry him to the couch behind the cash register. A hissing scowl escaped his mouth as he took a step forward; his jaw clenching with pain, brows furrowing and eyes closing in concentration behind the dark glasses. This seemed to bring the angel to his senses. He quickly separated himself from his friend, looking flustered with shame on his impulsive behaviour.

  
“You´re hurt! Your legs. The church. Concentrated ground. Must hurt. Oh no!”

  
“`s nothin´ angel! Just stings a little. Like wasp´s bite. Don´t worry!”

  
Instantaneously Aziraphale went into healing angel mode, took Crowley’s overcoat and fedora, banishing them to the stand and picked the demon up in his arms. Now it was Crowley’s turn to blush. Being a demon, he didn´t cope very well with such things so he lashed out on the angel.

  
“Put me down! I´m not an invalid! I can bloody walk! PUT ME DOWN. RIGHT NOW!”  
But Aziraphale was a Cherub and a warrior once, carrying an immense amount of divine strength beneath his soft and pudgy exterior. He held the struggling demon tight without breaking a sweat and plopped him on the lush armchair in the backroom.

  
“DO NOT PUT YOUR FEET DOWN.”, he ordered, righteous fury blazing in his eyes and Crowley dared not disobey. His tone softened a bit, “I´ll be back in a tiff!” 

Crowley could only sit there with eyes wide in amazement. Aziraphale came back after a while with a ceramic bowl of water, some fluffy white towels and some kind of ointment. Crowley was as he left him, sitting with his feet on the ottoman in front of the armchair. The angel shifted the ottoman to the side after placing everything on the ground and knelt down with his heels tucked beneath his legs. If Crowley would not be afraid of the angel´s tone before and bedazzled by him, he´d have made a lewd comment about the angel kneeling in front of him. Aziraphale took one of his legs and placed it on his thigh and started to remove his boot.

  
“Wha-what are you doing?”, he asked with voice cracking.

  
“You´re hurt. I´m going to heal you.”, the angel deadpanned.

  
“But- “, he was cut off by the look of authority which did not leave any room for argument from the Principality. “I´m going to heal you and you´re going to sit there and let me.” The demon nodded in submission.

  
The angel´s hands skirted in the hem of his trousers to take off the socks. The angel then did the same with the other foot, placed them both on his thighs to take a look at the damage. The soles were badly blistered, skin turned black with burns and soot. It was a holy injury after all. He grimaced at the sight. He gingerly started to clean it with a wet towel and set one foot in the water. Then he cleaned the other one.

  
“This is bad Crowley. Why did you come inside?”, his lower lip wobbled a little.

  
“To save you of course!”

  
“Oh! What a fool I made of myself!” He placed the other foot in the water and took out the first one after washing it.

  
“Well, you did a little!”, the demon chided. This was all very, very awkward.  
The angel dried his foot with a clean towel. The burnt skin and soot had cleared leaving behind extremely thin, transparent, and raw skin with some blisters that were red. He lifted it up a bit and placed a kiss to the heel. Crowley´s heartbeat- which he did not need at all- started to rise. The angel placed another light kiss to his feet. And another. And another as if worshipping. It was blasphemous as Hell and air was knocked out from the demon´s lungs (which were just there for show) when the angel put his thumb in his mouth and sucked around it gently.

  
“Angel…”, his voice sounded breathy as his eyes closed and he gulped around nothing. Aziraphale gave it another long suck before releasing it.

  
“What?”, he asked feigning innocence, a slight smile playing on his lips; looking up to the demon whose lips were parted and jaw had gone slack.

  
“Stop. Stop it.”, commanded Crowley which came out as a sigh.

  
“Stop what? This?”, the angel sucked the thumb again and just because he was a little bit of a bastard, twirled his tongue around it. The demon´s hips jerked a little in the air at this, his hands clutching the armrest of the chair tightly.

  
“Ngk.”, came the very articulate reply. He never hated the angel more than at this moment. And he hated himself at being turned to jelly by such a tiny action. Him! The Original tempter, whimpering, shuddering, at hands of an angel in few moments! How utterly Disgraceful!

  
The angel put the ointment on his feet and bandaged them while waiting for the demon to return about his wits. He parted the demon´s legs manipulating them so he could settle between them on his knees to they were almost eye level.

  
“Why? Why now?”, the demon inquired.

  
“Why not?”

  
“No.”

  
“No? I want to thank you.”

  
“Not like this, angel.”

  
“But I want it.”

  
“You think you do. You´re vulnerable. You´re feeling guilty.”

  
“I won´t.”

  
“You´ll regret it. You´ll- you´ll hate me. You´ll hate yourself.”

  
“I could never hate you.”

  
“What about yourself?”

  
“A little too late for that, my dear.”

  
“Aaangeellll…”, the demon pleaded. He really was a rubbish demon. Thousands of years he´d orbited the angel, wanting something. Anything he could have. And here he was, this close, refusing.

  
“Can I remove your glasses, my dear?” He nodded and they were gone. Placed on the counter. Aziraphale looked into his eyes, golden, radiating light, slit-pupils dilating, love rolling off in waves from the demon, knocking him off. He´d been repressing his urges for hundreds of years now, if not thousands. He´d kept the demon at arm´s length too long. He´d deterred the advances, covered himself in the veil of ignorance and back-stepped for too long now. It was time. He had to take a step forward. An initiative before it was too late. Hopefully it wasn´t too late. He was a leader of the Eastern platoon once for God´s sake! One can only be coward for so long.

He cupped the demon´s face in his hands and closed the distance between them, capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. How does one put millennia of love, lust, hurt and atonement in one kiss? He captured Crowley’s lips with ferocity he didn´t know he had. His tongue pressed against them demanding entrance which was granted readily. The demon was pliant under his ministrations, his hands seeking balance, snaking around the angel´s waist. As the angel mapped his best, his only friend´s, his lover´s mouth with his tongue, he pressed one hand onto the back of his neck, curling into the short crimson hair. Aziraphale opened his mouth wider and sucked the demon´s tongue into his mouth enticing a gasp from the other. After a long, long time- they didn´t actually need to breath- they parted with the angel tugging the demon´s lower lip with his teeth last time; making Crowley whine with pain and pleasure. He kissed them better, releasing with an obscene pop.

The demon looked positively debauched, lips red, swollen and slick with mixed saliva, hair mussed about in every direction, eyes wide, the whites completely gone covered with yellow and slits oval. He had never looked more beautiful. Aziraphale couldn´t help but place a quick peck on his nose and one on his lips.

“You´re beaming, angel.” Crowley was the first to recover.

“I suppose I am!”, he said, grinning wider. A laugh escaped Crowley. A real, genuine laugh. It was rarer than anything which thrilled the angel to no bounds.

They were both rendered speechless for the umpteenth time that evening, not knowing how to move forward. And as actions speak louder than words, the angel took things in his hands again, knowing very well that the demon was still afraid to take initiative. And Crowley was afraid. He couldn´t feel the love but could sense the desire radiating off the angel. He was afraid for him. Afraid that he´d ruin everything as he tended to do and the angel was determined to show him otherwise. Six thousand years of repression tended to leave some damage behind after all.

As the angel started to loosen the tie off him, Crowley held his hand, “Are you sure? I can wait. I will wait.”

  
“I´ve never been surer. You´ve waited more than enough. I should apologize. I´m sorry.”  
“No, never."

  
“But I do.”

  
“We can play this game forever.”

  
“I know. I don´t want to. So why don´t you just- “

  
“I don´t deserve this. You.”

  
“You do. I´ll show you how much you do.”

  
“What if you Fall? I can´t let you Fall.”

  
“I won´t.”

  
“How the fuck you know? You only say it´s ineffable.”

  
“That´s why I know.”

  
“What if Heaven finds out?”

  
“They won´t. Not tonight. Let me. Just for tonight.”

  
“They´ll- “

  
“Have faith.”

  
“Hello? Demon here.”

  
“In me, have faith in me.”

  
“You´re not playing fair.”

  
“All´s fair in…”

  
Crowley sealed the discussion with his lips once again. Maybe this was all the promise he needed. One night was enough. It had to be. He´d be grateful. They´d be careful. He was starving and a starving man is indebted even for scraps.

  
They were kissing again and the angel swallowed Crowley´s gasps, moans and whimpers like a parched man. Without breaking the kiss, the angel again started to work on the knot of his demon´s tie, releasing him from the constraints. He then shrugged off the jacket, working on the shirt buttons moving down on to his jaw, neck, his collar bone where he sucked in a bruise to mark Crowley. He moved to his Adam´s apple, kissing it, biting and pulling it into his eager mouth.

  
“You know you can just…aah…mira-ohh-cle off the clo-ooh-thes!”, the vibrations of the voice transferred to Zira´s lips doing very unangelic things to him.

  
“No. Want it the human way. Want to unwrap you.”, he hummed around the joint of his shoulder and neck placing a strategic mark on the smooth skin. The shirt was off, flung somewhere around the room. Crowley laughed at the mess his very fussy angel making of the clothes.

  
“You´re littering the room angel.”, he mock-scolded.

  
“Don´t care. Bed. Now.”, he panted and looked into the demon´s eyes. His own eyes dilated to the point where the blues presented a ring like an eclipse around the black. The demon was surprised that the never sleeping angel had a bed. He´d have to ask him about it later. He was positive if he stopped to banter now, he´d be smited? Smitten? Smote? Whatever.

  
The angel stood up, scooping the demon back into his arms, leaving him red-faced. “Ziraaa… I can walk…”

  
“You´re injured. You are not walking anywhere. Not tonight at least! And definitely not after I´m done with you!”, said the angel slyly.

  
“You little minx!”

  
The next Crowley knew he was dropped onto the bed with angel straddling him. The bed was a four poster- luxurious, very Aziraphale, thought Crowley. Of course, the hedonist angel would never go for something cheap. The bedspread was tartan as expected with soft, fluffy linens and little pillows scattered around. The demon did not have chance to observe the room further as Aziraphale was again on him peppering kisses everywhere. The travelled south from his neck to his chest, his pectorals and making a stop at one of his nipples. He took the dark bud in his mouth, laved his tongue around it, rendering it hard as he sucked. His other hand slipped from playing with the auburn chest hair to other bud pressing it between his fingers, pinching it hard. After a while he turned his attention to the other peck keeping the first one sensitive with his fingers. The demon was gasping for air he didn´t need, moaning sideways into the pillow.

  
The angel travelled south to his sternum, his navel leading to a dark patch of hair disappearing in his trousers. He looked towards Crowley, heat and desire and tinge of doubt lurking in his eyes- his hands on the buttons of the trouser as if seeking his permission. The demon held him by his forearms and drew him into a searing kiss. When they parted, a thread of saliva linked their puffed lips. “You´re still fully dressed angel!”

  
“Well, tonight is about you my dear.”, Zira replied with voice gone an octave lower. That stirred a deep shudder in the demon.

  
“But- “

  
“Shh…let me take care of you, please?”, the angel cut him off with a finger on the lips.

“Just for tonight let me show you. I want this. I need this. Don´t deny me. Anthony, please…”, as if Crowley could deny his angel anything. Aziraphale´s hands drifted towards Crowley´s waistband as he cast one last look at the demon, who gave a long sigh and nodded in affirmation. The angel´s eyes lit up like a thousand suns burning. And Crowley should know, he was an integral part of Celestial Building team.

  
He started to begin his journey littering the demon with kisses, licks and bites leaving him whimpering with arousal. It was a glorious sight- the so suave, sassy and sarcastic demon falling apart underneath him. He opened the demon´s trousers and pants and slid them off in one smooth motion. He skimmed his hands around the thighs, smothering the inner part with kisses, placing one or two ruby coloured bruise on the sensitive areas leaving the demon breathless; before proceeding to the main reward. The demon was warm inside out, melting to a puddle. Coherent speech had left his brain long ago. He wanted to make Aziraphale feel good too but his shorted brain could not form the words that echoed his wishes. Later he´d have his way with the angel and he will see if his blue eyes and bow lips and cherubic face would be so smug as they were now; he promised himself.

  
Aziraphale glanced a final time at the demon with a wicked look in his eyes before diving between his thighs, coaxing him to full hardness, taking him into his mouth in one full go. The demon´s hands which were until now scratching the sheets found purchase in the white blond hair, hips lifting off the bed, back arching like a gothic style bridge. “OHHH…AAANNGEEELLLL…Don´t aah- stop!”  
He smiled around the demon letting out a pleasant hum reverberating deep into the demon´s core. He bobbed his head up, twirling his tongue around the slit lapping up at the precum leaking out at steady pace.  
“Moooreeee… pleeeeaassssssssse! Harder!”, shouted the ginger, tugging harder at the soft curls.

  
The angel increased his pace and continued his attentions with greater fervor, using techniques with his tongue. One such exclusively filthy ministration was all it took to break the demon´s resolve to bring him to completion with a wordless gasp, his back and hips rising few inches above the bed, gagging the angel as he swallowed around the demon. When the demon came back from the white-out, the angel was deposited beside him, his hair muffled beyond recognition, clothes rumpled, cleaning his mouth with a swipe of his hand. Crowley yanked him on himself, kissing the disheveled angel, tasting himself along the familiar taste of cocoa, fresh baked goods and something distinctly angelic in the background.

  
“Where´d you learn how to do that?” He had to ask. His angel was not so very vanilla and prudish as he seemed.

  
“I own a bookshop dear.”, said the angel as it explained everything.

  
“And?”

  
“I own many kinds of books.”

  
“And?”, the demon was still not convinced.

  
“And I read a lot.”, he was started to get a little tetchy at his line of questioning.

  
“And?”, Crowley did not deter.

  
“I was a member of a certain discreet gentleman´s club!”, he mumbled.

  
“And?” Silence. More silence.

  
“Ughhh, if you must know, well- there was a certain gentleman…”, he trailed off, voice even lower. He was starting not to like the demon very much.

  
“Oscar Wilde! You did it with Oscar fucking Wilde! I knew it!”, Crowley beamed at the victory.

  
“Nhnnn…”

  
“You little devil! You hedonistic bastard! I knew it! You weren´t only learning the Gavotte!”, he laughed his real laugh for the second time that night.

  
“So… you´re not angry?”, the angel was tracing little patterns on the demon´s hips. His eyes concentrated on a tiny freckle there.  
Crowley placed his thumb under his chin, forcing Zira to look into his eyes. “And why would I be angry?”

  
“Well…you always hated Oscar!”, he stated demurely.

  
“That´s ´cause he was a right cunt! How he treated Robbie! And Constance. All for that dumb, spoilt Lord of his.”

  
“Hmm. You did have a soft spot for Robbie…”

  
“Of course, I did! I´m the messiah of the down-trodden and unrequited lovers!”

  
The angel laughed a sad laugh. “You don´t believe you´re one of them, do you?”

  
“I would say I´m their Lord Almighty!”, Crowley made a poor attempt at humour. The joke fell flat.

  
“No. You-you´re very much not that. You have to know that.”, Zira argued. The demon remained silent.

  
Aziraphale very much wanted to tell him how much he loved him. How much he cherished him, how much he cared for him. But saying it aloud would make it real. He didn´t know that if he confessed, he´d ever be able to stop. Heaven would find out. Or worse. Hell would. He´d be destroyed. And if Crowley was destroyed, then Zira would never be able to carry on existing. It was a bit too much. A bit too Romeo and Juliet. They were not that! How he hated that play! If the demon was careless and impulsive, he´d be the sensible and pragmatic one.

  
“I never said thank you, I suppose.”, he distracted the conversation.

  
“For what? I said it´s not necessary.”

  
“For saving my books. It is.”

  
“Oh.”

  
“Yes, oh. You know I love them very much. I hope they know how much I love them! if anything would ever happen to them because of my recklessness, I´d never be able to forgive myself. I have to take care of them. I hope they know that and remember that. I´ll always love them! I hope they would also love me back. They are extremely precious to me, you see?” He planted a kiss on Crowley´s mouth, gorgeous blue orbs shimmering with hope.

  
“Yes, they know that now angel. They know. And they love you back so very much.”, he retorted placing a warm, lingering kiss on Zira´s forehead before succumbing to a blissful sleep.


End file.
